


Comforting Glow

by BridgeWowDah



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Emotional, Emotions, Gen, Vent Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 07:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeWowDah/pseuds/BridgeWowDah
Summary: A man sits and waits for those who wish to speak.





	Comforting Glow

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll. This'll be the first work I post. I was hoping to get something more canon/fandom based written, but after not really finding any inspiration I thought a good way to get my mind a'going was to write something more off the top of my head rather than something that's been planned out or what have you. I also hope in the future that my stories/fics are more light-hearted than this. Haha. Anyway, I hope that you find this, at least, somewhat interesting.

A man sat in a room. A grey painted room, nearly featureless. The only things in sight were two chairs, one of which the man sat in, a table and a brown door. The other empty chair was placed on the other side of the table, across from where the man sat. A candle also sat in the center of the table. While it did little to brighten the room, the way it's warm glow flickered among the table was enough for the man. Just bright enough to stare into, watching the wick slowly fall as it melted the wax that surrounded it.  
  
And he stared into the glow with a grin on his face. At times, he didn't really know why he was still grinning. Perhaps it was recalling what people, his friends, family and even acquaintances came to talk to him about. The success they were having in their life with their job or a relationship with a lover. Or maybe it was something more simple like a movie they had seen or a cute picture a friend had showed them. It was all enough to keep a grin on his face.  
  
That was to admit – that not everything people, friends, family and acquaintances had to talk about was positive. Sometimes they came to him with issues they were facing. A loved one passing, issues they are having with a co-worker, an unfortunate argument they had with a friend. Recalling these troubles - hardships that these people who meant something to him, all in different ways, was troubling. And no matter the relationship or the severity of one's troubles, he worried for them all the same.  
  
To the man, at times, it wasn't clear why he kept grinning. For at certain times, these people had more troubles to share than they did of their prosperity. He thought sometimes that they did so on purpose. Though why would they? Was it to see his grin fade? Did they want to see him frown? To become unnerved? Frustrated? If so, they had achieved it before. It wasn't often, but they had. But what satisfaction would it bring them? This, in of itself, was another worry.  
  
Despite the times he had become unraveled, shown his weakness, he always found himself grinning again. Hearing more positive tales helped of course, but in the back of his mind he always had something eating at him.  
  
Tim is having trouble with his girlfriend's drinking habits.

 

Steven was dealing with his terminally ill dog.

 

Samantha needed to get out of the terrible home she was living in-

 

... There were three thumps.

 

A knock at the door.

 

"C-Come in," exclaimed the man, sitting up straight in his seat. The door promptly opened, near blinding light shining into the room over the glow of the candle. The man winced, shielding his eyes briefly, even while being used to knowing what would happen once the door opened. But even through the light, he could make out the figure of someone before the door shut. This figure now in the room with him, sharing the warm glow.

 

"Have a seat, if you'd like," the man offered. He extended his hand out across the table, to the empty chair. After a moment or two, the figure approached before pulling the chair out and plopping down. Causing the, surely, worn chair to creak under their weight.

 

This one... This person was new. The man was good at remembering details about people. The style and color of their hair. The color of their skin, their eyes. But this one... he couldn't make out anything about them. Not yet.  
  
Like they were anyone else, he still grinned at them. At their featureless face. "I reckon we haven't met before, have we," questioned the man despite knowing the answer.  
  
"... No, we have not." Their voice, even, he couldn't make a detail of. Just... monotone. "Despite that, I hear you're one people like to talk to. One that... can bear another's burdens, in a way."

 

The man leaned back in his chair, wheezily chuckling ever so slightly. "I wouldn't put it exactly like that. I... listen to what they have to tell me. And offer some kind words, if I can find them."

 

"Kind words, huh?" The stranger sounded almost unimpressed.

 

"That or... I dunno. All I try to do is be my best for people when they need someone to listen to them. Even if they just want someone to talk to – to tell me how their day went. I'm all ears and... well, I suppose I try to advertise myself as only that. Someone who'll listen."

 

The stranger remained quiet for a few moments. After, a laugh came from him. A... wheezy laugh. A laugh the man was all too familiar with. "That would explain the frustration." And as they spoke, their voice was suddenly familiar too. This caused the man's grin to fade away from his face.

 

"Who-... Who are you?" For the first time in... god, he couldn't even recall the last time he felt fear like this.

 

"Let me ask you; Do you _really_ care for those who talk to you?" The more the stranger spoke, the more their voice became apparent.

 

"Y-Yes! Why would I not?"

 

"Because... for while you do seem to care for them, you do very little to show it."

 

That caught the man off guard, and it didn't anger him. No. He felt his heart flutter- his chest tighten. He felt... shameful.

 

"An elderly family member asks for your help with something they are unable to do anymore; you, at least politely, turn them down your help and wish them your best. A friend is in a bad spot in their life and need money; you tell them you're sorry and barely spread the word around to others who _might_ be able to help-"

 

A small choke escapes the man, "I... I-I just do what I can to help-"

 

"But it's not much help, is it!? That elder of yours is now having more trouble than ever with their leg now and your friend-... well, your friend is fine. Mostly. They got through what trouble they were having, but not without the cost of their mental fortitude. The next time they're in a spot, they may not be able to push through-"

 

The man's fists suddenly pounded down on the table in front of him, the candle bouncing slightly in it's pillar. "WHAT do you want from me!?"

 

Unlike before, the stranger didn't interrupt. Nor did they answer right away – to the man that was starting to unravel before them. "... I want you to take a look at yourself."

 

Again, the man was caught off guard and confused. The tears that were welling up in his eyes now streaming down his face as he looked down to himself. He... He didn't see anything out of the ordinary. It was just him. After wiping tears away from his cheeks with his hands, he looked back up and across the table. It... the stranger... it was... _him._

 

The man's hair was long and matted down. Unkempt yet slick with oil. His eyes were their usual bluish color but the whites were bloodshot. Dark bags drooped downwards – downwards towards his beard that was grown down to his chest, it too unkempt. His clothing; old and covered in a manner of filth.

 

"...Don't you see...," the stranger began to say, a smile coming to his face. A big, wide smile that showed his yellowing and corroded teeth. "... You see what what your worrying and 'care' has done? What is has _cost_ you?"

 

"... Myself. ... It's cost me myself."

 

The warm glow of the candle flickered once. Twice. A third time before going out. The flame now nonexistent. The man feared that the room would darken completely, that he would not be able to see the stranger, but no. He saw the stranger still. Now featureless.

 

"Indeed." Their voice monotone again. Featureless. "You've cost yourself while 'helping' others. And for what?"

 

The stranger's words didn't initially register with the man. He was still staring where the candle's flame once was. Where he was used to it being. It now being gone... worried him. Would it return? It had always been there, it brought him comfort, but now it was gone. The comfort was gone. "... Nothing," the man responded.

 

"Just like you've done with yourself. _Nothing. ..._ What is it that you are trying to accomplish? Slowly wear yourself away while you give hollow words to those you care about? If so, you are succeeding."

 

The stranger's words were taken hold of this time. But the man didn't respond, at first. He contemplated, his eyes still locked on the candle. "... What am I to do?"

 

"... I'd suggest-" Once the stranger began to speak, he stood from up from the chair, "Stop caring so much. About your friends, family... and acquaintances. And start caring for yourself." The stranger then turned and walked back to the door.

 

Hearing the knob starting to turn was enough to make the man flinch, to look up as the door opened again. As usual, the light that flooded in made his eyes burn. Even more now that the warm, comforting glow was gone. Still, he watched as the stranger stepped into the doorway, their silhouette blocking some of the light.

 

"... I think you'll find once you've bettered yourself- cared for yourself, you'll be able to better care for those you hold so dear. And you'll find your frustration to be less crushing than it is."

 

Those were the last words the stranger spoke. They slowly walked out, dragging the door along with them before it clasped shut again. And the man stared at it. The big, brown and wooden door. A blockage between the comforting seclusion of the room, and the reality that was out beyond it. A passage that people normally entered and exited at their own leisure and pace, but one he had only ever entered once. And since he had stayed.

 

The man sat in the room. A room now devoid of light. The second chair now empty again. After a few moments, maybe even a few minutes, a sigh escapes the man. To say he felt discomfort was an understatement. His heart still fluttered, his chest still tight. He felt sick. But... he realized, he's felt sick for a long time. ... This worried him. But before he knew it, the candle reignited. The warm, comforting glow filling up the room again.

 

Unlike every other time however, a grin didn't come back to his face. No. The glow didn't bring the same comfort it did before. What comfort it brought felt... false. It wouldn't last.

 

A grin only came back to his face once he reached his hand out and snuffed the warm glow between his finger and thumb.

 


End file.
